


The Feathered Prince

by aqueenofokay



Category: Banana Bus Squad, gbg
Genre: fairytale AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-06-25 15:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15643812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aqueenofokay/pseuds/aqueenofokay
Summary: Smitty's life as a prince has always been easy and quiet. All of that changes when war breaks out and he is sent away from the home he has known his entire life to a cold, old castle where he'll be safe from the violence of war. It's there however, that Smitty stumbles into a magical world and finds himself wrapped up in a quest to save a prince and fight a king.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh!! I'm so excited for this story! It's going to be huge! It's my first time really writing the GBG as main characters!! Don't worry, the BBS guys are all in this story as well!!! Everyone has a role to play in this story!!! This story is going to be so beautiful, I'm so excited!!   
> I think this story is going to be a long one compared to my last few. Thank you all so so much for the support Prom Night got! It means a lot!!! I hope you enjoy The Feathered Prince!!!

Warm, summer sunlight shone through the towering stained glass windows. The watery, stained glass showed images of past great kings adorned with feathers, shrouded with dripping gold. The goliath domed ceiling painted with golden clouds rose over the grand hall, it’s pillars draped with gold. Quiet voices filled the grand hall. Sitting empty at the end of the hall was a golden throne, surrounded by priests, their holy hands holding the makings of a king.

The tall doors at the other end of the hall opened.

A young man slowly stepped into the hall, his long flowing cape made of a deep forest green velvet trimmed with thick, white fur and embroidered with gold, dragging on the floor behind him.

The crowd turned to look at him. Their eyes ringed with coloured paint, golds, blues, pinks, and greens, looked him over, looking for any flaw, anything to comment on. They were all dressed in jewels, silks and satins, elaborate headpieces adorned with feathers and gems rising above the crowd.

The young man’s eyes were not on them though. His bright eyes were on the stained glass windows. He suddenly felt very aware of the large gold ring pierced through his septum like a hog. Under his collar, the piece of metal tied to a chain around his neck seemed to burn his chest.

He did not have any feathers like the kings immortalized in the windows did.

“No! Please! Don't do this! Stop!” The pleading scream echoed through his mind as he continued down the aisle, the golden throne waiting for him. A part of him wanted to turn and flee from the hall, flee from the castle. Another part of him wouldn't let him stop marching forward towards his destiny.

He reached the steps leading up to the throne. He knelt, his hands beginning to tremble. His long cloak pooled around him. The priests stepped forward.

“Are you willing to bear the responsibilities that will be placed upon you as king?” One of them asked.

“I am willing.”

“Do you promise to uphold justice and honesty?”

“I promise…” The young man closed his bright eyes.

“Please!” The scream rang through his head again. “Please!”

“Do you promise to use your power as king for righteousness and the betterment of the land?”

“I promise…”

“By the power of Aestiva, we crown you king of Aestas.” The heavy golden crown was placed atop his head.

Slowly, he stood.

He stepped towards the throne.

He looked up at the stained glass windows.

He took his seat.

The glittering spectre was placed into his trembling hands. His eyes found the young woman in a long blue, glittering gown standing at the front of the crowd, her nails sharpened into fine points. Her silvery blonde hair had been braided with gold thread. Framing her face were small golden wings decorated with gold, connected with a gold chain that draped over her forehead.

The wings were made with owl feathers.

She smiled at him.

"Stop crying..." She had whispered that dreadful night when it was done, her long black sleeves draped over him as he sobbed, his head resting on her lap. Her sharp fingernails had gently caressed his ear. "You are a king now...No one will stop you. I'll protect you like I always have. You have nothing to fear."

Now, he found himself smiling back her.

His grip tightened on the spectre.

“Long live the king!” The crowd roared. “Long live the king!”


	2. Chapter One

Warm morning sunlight washed over the lush, green gardens. Water sparkled in the fountains. A warm breeze rustled the hedges and the tall trees that surrounded the grand palace. The warm sunlight cast the sprawling palace in a golden glow. Neatly trimmed saplings lined the gravel paths that traced their way through the grand gardens. Automobiles parked out front of the grand palace, their drivers smoking cigarettes while they waited for their passengers to return. 

On the horizon were columns of dark smoke rose towards the rolling blue sky. 

Inside, the grand halls were alive with activity. Soldiers dressed in their green uniforms ran maps and papers too and from grand studies where generals argued and planned their attacks. Ladies stood in groups in the beautiful Hall of Mirrors, their white fans fluttering anxiously as they gossiped. The Hall, once filled with life and parties, was now filled with worried whispers and fearful glances to the windows, as if those gathered there were expecting to see the enemy marching on the horizon. Portraits of past kings and queens watched from their golden frames, their oily eyes seeming to follow everyone as they hurried past. Shimmering chandeliers hung from the golden ceilings. The spotless marble floors glinted in the morning glow coming through the windows. 

Members of the king’s council stood outside of the king’s chambers, their brows knitted with worry as the doors finally opened. The doctor looked pale. 

“Where is the prince?” The doctor asked. The council members looked at each other nervously. None of them knew where he was. “You should prepare him for the worst.” 

“The front is on our doorstep.” One of the members pointed out, his stiff white collar feeling tight around his throat. “If he's going to become king during this war, he'll be an easy target for the enemy. It’s not safe for him here.” 

“Then what do you suggest we do?” Another asked. “If he were to come into power while far away from the capital things could get messy.” 

“But what if we lose him too? We don’t need a conflict over the throne in the middle of a war too!” 

“What about Aquitaine? Down south? It’s close enough. Only a day’s journey by train. He’ll be safe there. His companion’s uncle lives there. In Hautefort.”

“Does the king agree with this?” 

The council members glanced at each other again, each wishing that they could escape the unbearable stress that weighed down upon them. One of them cast his gaze to the tall windows and the gardens beyond the glass. 

Outside, the birds sang. 

The warm sun rose higher into the sky. 

Hooves pounded against the earth. 

Two riders urged their horses onwards, their riding jackets flying out behind them. The tall trees rushed past. The grand canal sparkled in the warm sunlight. The riders turned down onto a quieter path, the gardens becoming a bit more untamed here. Tallgrass rose from the earth. Wildflowers bloomed brightly. The riders raced onwards, the wind pulling at their hair. A laugh floated through the air. They slowed as they reached a quiet pond, a stone pavilion standing near the water. One of the riders got off his horse, his white blonde hair falling over his eyes. The other remained atop his horse for a moment longer, breathing in the fresh air.  

“It’s so nice today.” The blonde boy said, walking over to the pond. His polished riding boots glinted in the light. The other boy got off his horse, gently patting it's soft white neck. 

“Do you smell smoke?” The other asked, holding the leather reins tightly in his hand. 

“It always smells like smoke nowadays, Smitty.” The blonde boy said, glancing back at him. “There’s more to worry about then smoke.” 

“You’re right…” Smitty sighed, letting go of the reins. The horses grazed on the lush green grass. He walked over to his friend, looking down at the pond. “Are you scared, John?” 

“Of what?” 

“The war.” 

“Of course I am...But what can we do right now? You’re not king yet.” John smiled cheekily at the short prince. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Smitty narrowed his eyes. John shrugged, a goofy smile spreading on his face. Smitty shoved him. John’s foot slipped on the bank. He grabbed onto Smitty’s arm as he fell. Smitty screamed, managing to pull himself away from John’s grasp as he fell into the pond, the sparkling crystal water flying through the air. The lily pads bobbed on the small waves. Smitty howled with laughter as John broke through the surface, his blonde hair sticking to his head. “You idiot!” 

“You pushed me!” John yelled. A smile appeared on his face. Smitty reached forward to help John out of the pond. His wet hand wrapped around Smitty’s wrist. John laughed, yanking Smitty into the pond. He laughed wildly, Smitty’s scream echoing through the gardens. The cattails growing at the edge of the pond danced in the warm wind. Smitty broke through the glittering surface, gasping for air. John laughed. Smitty splashed water in his face. 

The smoke on the horizon rose higher in the sky. 

After pulling themselves out of the pond, the prince and his close friend walked back towards the grand, sprawling palace, their horse’s reins held loosely in their hands, their horses following behind them. Cool water dripped down their faces from their hair, their wet clothes feeling heavy. They talked about everything and nothing. The golden windows watched them. They reached the stables, handing the reins to the stable hands. Their excited voices echoed off the golden walls and the marble checkerboard floor as they walked inside. The halls became quiet as they passed, servants and generals, lords and ladies, all bowed to the prince as he passed. Smitty barely seemed to notice but John’s eyes passed over them all. They climbed the winding marble Questral staircase, the warm summer light spilling through the windows. They reached the young prince’s chambers where John collapsed onto a chair in the sitting room, the numerous rings that covered his fingers glinting in the light. 

“Don’t get the chair wet.” Smitty laughed, stepping into his bedroom to change out of his wet clothes. “You should go change, John.” 

“I will.” John waved his hand dismissively. Smitty smiled, pulling off his wet boots and coat. There was knock at the door. “Come in!” John called out. A servant politely entered the room. 

“My lord,” He nodded to John. “The king’s council has requested to see the prince.” 

“I’ll let him know.” John smiled at the servant who cheeks reddened before he stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. In his bedroom, Smitty stared nervously at the tall windows. 

The smoke on the horizon seemed darker. 

 

The train car rocked side to side slowly. The rolling countryside flew past the windows. The sky was grey, a thin rain falling over the rolling fields. Smitty sat by the window, his book open on his lap. Despite all of the other chairs in the luxurious cabin, John sat beside Smitty, his head resting on his shoulder. Smitty’s dark eyes watched the countryside roll by. 

“You can’t send me away! Not now! Not fucking now!” 

“Your Highness!” 

“You can’t send me away!” Smitty had brought his fist down on the council room table. 

“We aren’t sending you away. The palace here is too close to the front. It is not safe for you and the Lord of Aquitaine for now. You must evacuate.” One of the council members explained carefully. “Lord John’s uncle has kindly offered you a safe place to stay at Chateau Hautefort.” 

“I want to see my father!” Smitty demanded. The council members looked at each other nervously. 

“You can’t.” 

“Why?” Smitty snarled. “I am his heir! I want to see my father!” 

“He is too sick.” 

“Please!” 

“I’m sorry, your highness.” Smitty’s jaw had clenched. He turned, hurrying from the council room, his black coat tails spinning around him.

He knew what they really meant. 

_ You’re not king yet, little boy. Do what you’re told.  _

Now, the train’s whistle echoed across the countryside, smoke billowing from its chimney. The train pulled into a quiet station. Smitty watched as people crowded to get a glimpse into the royal train carriage. Instead of pulling the curtain closed, he flashed one of the young ladies in the crowd a smile. Her cheeks turned bright red. A flash of white caught his eye. Through the steam rising through the engine, he could see a soldier being carried on a stretcher by two other soldiers, his eyes wrapped with thick, bloody gauze. A nurse in her blue dress and white apron followed behind, the cross on her chest as red as the blood. Smitty found himself staring. 

_ How could he be a good king when his people were suffering like this?  _

He looked away, slowly closing the book on his lap. He fidgeted with the sleeve of his black tweed coat. 

The train pulled out of the station, continuing south. John finally woke up, getting up to snack on the lunch that had been served while he was asleep. 

“I should warn you,” John said, his mouth full of a green coloured macaroon. “My uncle is an asshole.” 

“Oh?” Smitty looked up at John, raising an eyebrow. 

“Just...what ever he says just ignore it. As hard it might be...just...ignore it.” John said, washing down his macaroon with some black tea. 

“You know I’m not the best at ignoring things,” Smitty muttered, glancing out the window.

“I know.” John smiled, sitting down across from Smitty. He moved with the grace and dignity of a prince, the kind of movements that Smitty had failed to learn. 

“May I present to you, John of Aquitaine. He is to be your companion.” Smitty’s father, the king had said to the seven-year-old prince who stared at the blonde haired boy that stood in front of him. “One day, he will be a lord just like you will one day be a king.” The adults had left the children to get to know each other. Smitty had stayed quiet, not sure what to make of John. 

“There’s a difference between king and lord.” Smitty finally said, holding a ball tightly in his small hands, his bright blue and gold coat looking a bit big on him. John had looked up at him. 

“So?” John had shrugged. Smitty liked him. 

Everyone made him feel different. John didn’t. Over the years, the two boys became inseparable. Everything Smitty learned, John did too. Except, some things stuck to John better than Smitty. 

“It’s quite at Hautefort...I haven’t been there in years.” John said now, his eyes on the windows. His numerous rings glinted in the light. “It’s weird there…”

“Weird?” 

“I don’t know how to explain it. Just feels different. Like there...there is something in the air.” John struggled to explain. He shrugged, the fur around his collar brushing against his face. He wore a deep burgundy coat over a black vest and white linen shirt, a burgundy cravat tied tightly around his collar. His polished shoes glinted in the light. On the table across the train carriage rested his old top hat, a black satin sash wrapped around it. No one really wore top hats anymore but John still did. He sometimes made Smitty feel underdressed in his simple suits. He had been told that a royal shouldn’t dress too fancy but he was beginning to doubt that anyone actually listened to that advice. 

Smitty looked back at the window, his eyes on the dreary sky. He leaned his head back against the soft seat, wondering if the sky looked like this sad at the front. He had heardstories at parties from other young lords who went off to war about great rolling tanks and aeroplanes, about heavy clouds of gas and mud-filled trenches, about blood and young men crying out for their mothers as they lay dying. 

He closed his eyes, his mind filled with horrific, nightmarish images. 

_ How could he be a good king when his people were suffering like this?  _

“Smitty.” John gently shook his shoulder. Smitty’s eyes fluttered open. The train had arrived at a small station, the platforms almost empty. He blinked, not realizing that he had fallen asleep. “We’re here,” John said, picking up his small bag full of books and his notebooks that he had brought along. He placed his hat on his heat, his blonde hair sticking out like the strands of a dispersing cloud. Smitty got up, buttoning his black coat. He placed his straw dress hat on his head and followed John off the train. A steward escorted them outside. Old stone buildings lined the streets. A platoon of soldiers were loading a truck with supplies to be taken all the way back to the front. It was raining harder here, the streets quiet. Those who found themselves in the rain hid under black umbrellas. 

Smitty frowned.

It looked nothing like home. 

“Did he know we were coming?” Smitty asked, not seeing an automobile. John turned him towards a black carriage where the stewards were loading their trunks onto the back. Smitty couldn’t stop his groan of disappointment. 

“He’s a bit old-fashioned.” John smiled. 

“Ugh! I’ll be sick!” Smitty protested. John laughed, helping Smitty climb up into the old carriage. 

Smitty was right. 

Not even an hour into the long trek, they had to stop when the young prince frantically threw open the carriage door, nearly falling to the dusty road, his face a greenish hue. John laughed. 

For the rest of the way, Smitty lay on the leather seat, his head on John’s lap, the carriage nauseatingly rocking side to side. Rain pattered on the roof and slid down the windows. Rolling foothills passed by. They were the colour of dark ocean waves that would toss ships around in the midst of a storm. Mist clung to the hills. 

“There it is,” John said quietly. Smitty sat up, looking out the windows at the small old stone houses that had begun to line the narrow dirt road. Up ahead, on top of a hill that overlooked the tiny town was the chateau, a grand castle complete with two round grey topped towers. “It used to be a military fortress a long time ago…” John explained. “You can see for miles from up there.” 

“I’m just want to see a bed,” Smitty muttered. The carriage reached the top of the hill, entering the grounds. They passed a sprawling garden. Through the trees, Smitty could make out neatly groomed hedges. The carriage passed the gates, coming to a stop at the front steps. 

Standing on the old grey steps was a tall blonde man dressed in a fashionable tweed suit, an umbrella held tight in his hand. Beside him stood a young woman, her red hair held back in a braid, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Her black skirt billowed in the wind. 

Smitty looked up at the tower and the old stone fortress wall. It looked medieval. A steward opened the door, the two stepping out of the carriage. A steward handed Smitty an umbrella as John got out. 

“Your Highness. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The tall man said with a bow. “I am Fitz. And may I introduce you to the Lady Bordie who has also come here to find refuge from the war.” Smitty blinked. He wanted to turn to John to make a comment under his breath but said nothing, instead nodding to the young woman as she curtsied. Fitz’s eyes then turned to John. His jaw clenched. “Bordie...Remind me. What year is it?” 

“1916.” She said softly. 

“Right. So...John. Why do you look like a Russian aristocrat from 1872?” Fitz’s tone was sharp. John awkwardly looked down at his polished shoes. He shrugged. Smitty cleared his throat. 

“Perhaps, Sir...If you’re so observant, why don’t you point out some memorable facts about this place to us while you show us to our rooms?” Smitty asked sharply. Fitz seemed taken aback. Smitty glanced back at John, noticing the smile pulling at his lips. 

 

The candlelight flickered. Smitty’s shadow was cast on the tall, cream coloured walls of the bedroom he shared with John, the other boy sound asleep on his bed across the room. The young prince sat by the window, watching the rain patter on the glass and the flicker of the lanterns outside by the gatehouse. Through the dim glow, he could see the gardens, the woods and the hedges. 

“It’s a maze.” Bordie had said during dinner when Smitty asked about the hedges. Fitz had looked up from his plate, nervousness flashing across his face. 

“You aren’t to go near it,” Fitz said. “It’s never tended to...It’s dangerous.” 

“Why is never tended to?” Smitty asked. “At home, there are many gardeners.” 

“Don’t go near it, Smitty.” Was all Fitz said. 

Now, Smitty sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. 

He couldn’t see himself being happy here in this cold fortress. 

He wanted to go home. 

Outside, something moved in the dark. 

Smitty’s brow furrowed as he straightened, his eyes on the entrance to the maze. A hooded figure stood at the entrance, a strange, golden lantern held tight in their hand. With their free hand, they seemed to be making a beckoning motion at him. The figure began to turn towards the maze. 

Within the blink of an eye, it was gone. 


	3. Chapter Two

The arrow buried its head into the red ring of the bullseye. 

Smitty bit the inside of his lip, drawing another arrow from the quiver beside him. The warm sun shone down on the gardens. Nearby, Bordie and John watched from where they sat under an umbrella, snacking on sweets and sandwiches. Smitty notched the arrow and raised the bow, pulling back the bowstring. His leather gloved fingers held the string tightly. Beyond the target, the woods and the hedge maze rose out of the earth. Smitty took a breath. He let go of the string. The arrow flew through the air, the gold fletching feathers fluttering. It hit the edge of the gold circle. Smitty sighed. 

“Come on, Smitty.” John laughed. 

“He’s pretty good,” Bordie said, smacking his arm with her fan. “Leave him alone.” 

“I’m used to it, Bordie.” Smitty smiled at her before turning to walk over to the target. 

“As great as you are, Smitty, I’m bored.” Bordie sighed, leaning back in her chair. Over the week so far that the two boys had been at Hautefort, they had gotten to know Bordie who had been dreaming of company her own age since she arrived the month before. She followed the boys everywhere.

“What should we do then, Bordie?” Smitty asked, pulling the arrows out of the target. Bordie pursed her lips, thinking. 

“Hmm…” She hummed loudly. John smiled, his eyes turning down to his rings. The gemstones sparkled in the light. His light green silk vest glinted in the warm sunlight, his poofy linen sleeves looking as flowy as Bordie’s lacy white afternoon dress adorned with soft pink bows. Her matching sun hat rested on the arm of her chair. Smitty put the arrows back into the quiver. Like John, Smitty too wore a vest over his white shirt, but the vest was black and the sleeves of his shirt were tight, the cuffs pinned together with gold pins, the edges of his collar rubbing against his jaw. 

Bordie glanced at John with a smile. She suddenly reached over to him, tapping him on the shoulder. 

“Tag! You’re it!” She cried, leaping from her seat. Her white skirts billowed around her as she ran towards the castle. John looked at Smitty, a smirk spreading on his face. 

“John no!” Smitty laughed as John suddenly jumped from his seat, running towards the prince. Smitty howled with laughter, narrowly dodging John’s hand and ran after Bordie. He quickly caught up to her, the two running through the gravel courtyard and burst into the front hall. 

“I’m gonna get you!” John yelled after them. They giggled, sprinting down the grey stone hall. Smitty grabbed onto Bordie’s wrist, pulling her up a winding staircase with him to the second floor. The large hall was lined with doors to other wings and rooms of the castle. They slowed their pace, knowing Fitz was nearby in his study. “Where did you go?” John’s voice echoed up the staircase. Smitty and Bordie stifled their nervous giggles, hurrying down the hall. John appeared at the top of the stairs, chasing after them. They squealed, breaking into a run down the hallway. Bordie pulled Smitty into one of the sitting rooms, giggling as they backed away from the door. John laughed as he jumped into the room, his silk vest glinting in the light. John lunged at Smitty who fell back. 

A booming crash echoed through the sitting room. 

Bordie gasped. Smitty turned to look behind him at the small table rocking back forth on its thin legs and the pieces of the beautiful vase that lay on the floor. 

Somewhere down the hall, Fitz looked up from the papers on his desk. 

“Now you’ve done it.” Bordie laughed. 

“Shit,” Smitty muttered, bending down to pick up one of the pieces. 

“John? Bordie? What are you doing?” Fitz’s voice echoed down the hall. John’s eyes widened. 

“Fitz is coming!” 

“Come on!” Bordie lead the way through the other door in the sitting room that lead to the library. They hurried through the large room towards the door to the hallway, nervously peeking into the hall as Fitz disappeared into the sitting room. They ran back the way they had come, giggling as they hurried down the winding staircase and down the stone hallway. 

Fitz stepped back into the hallway, his brow furrowing. He marched towards the stairs, his polished shoes clicking on the marble floor. He hurried down the stairs and towards the main doors, the gravel crunching under his shoes as he walked across the courtyard. He was certain he had heard them, certain that he had heard them break the vase. He pushed open the gate to the gardens and was surprised to find Bordie and John in the middle of a quiet conversation while Smitty loaded an arrow into his bow. “Good afternoon, Fitz!” Bordie waved to him when she noticed him walking towards them. 

“Were you three just inside?” 

“No.” Bordie shook her head. “Why?” 

“A vase is broken.” Fitz narrowed his eyes at John who stared back at him as he bit into an eclair, the chocolate sticking to his fingers. 

“Oh...How did that happen?” Bordie asked. 

“I was going to ask you.” 

“We’ve been out here all afternoon. Perhaps it was one of the servants...Or maybe it was a ghost!” Bordie smiled. “Old castles like this...they bound to be full of strange things...Maybe even fairies!” At the mention of fairies, a strange look clouded Fitz’s eyes. 

“Maybe…” Fitz lowered his gaze to the grass. Smitty turned, looking at the tall man. Fitz raised his eyes, his gaze fixed on the woods and the hedge maze. “Anything is possible.” Fitz met Smitty’s gaze for a moment before turning away from them, walking back towards the gate. Once he was gone, Bordie and John burst into laughter. Smitty’s gaze turned back to the hedges, wondering what it was that Fitz was thinking about. 

 

It was raining again the next day. Mist clung to the hills that surrounded the castle. John found himself in the library, curiously reading the titles of the old and odd collection Fitz owned. He pulled one of the old leather bound books off the shelf. 

“Riddles…” He whispered as he flipped through the pages. He stopped at one, looking at the inky drawing of a milkmaid. “Two legs sit on three legs, four legs stand nearby. What am I?” John read aloud. “A milkmaid.” He smiled, turning the page. Upstairs, Bordie sat by her bedroom window, drawing in her sketchbook. Occasionally, she would look up from her book to the grey, misty world outside before looking back down at the page where she was trying to recreate the rainy scene. 

In the hall, Smitty walked from room to room, looking at the old portraits that hung on the walls. Some of them were of people he was related to, others were more distant. He continued down the stairs, to the second floor. In the sitting room, Fitz napped on the couch, his book resting on his chest. Smitty continued past the sitting room, daring to glimpse into Fitz’s office. It was decorated nicely, gold trim on the walls, a rich Persian rug on the floor, shelves full of books on law, history and philosophy lining the walls. Smitty glanced into the hall before stepping into the room. He closed the door behind him before stepping over to the desk. He wondered if there was anything about the war written on the many papers that covered it. He glanced over them, their red wax stamps from different officials glinting in the light. Under the documents and letters, something caught his eye. 

Carefully, he pulled the parchment paper out. It was a pencil sketch of a bridge. It was perfectly round, it’s reflection in the water completing a circle. Smitty looked back down at the desktop, noticing more drawings. He pulled them out, his brow furrowing. The one on top was the profiles of two boys. One had feathers growing among his hair, the other had a ring pierced through his septum. There were more drawings of a grand, towering castle and a thick forest, all strange and detailed, as if Fitz had sat down in front of these places and people and drawn them. Smitty glanced at the door before quickly putting the drawings back where he had found them. 

“Let's go to the city!” Bordie said that afternoon as she pushed open the door to the boy’s room. Smitty looked up from his book, his brow furrowing. He glanced at John who shrugged. 

“You mean the city that's a three-hour carriage ride away?” 

“Yes! I heard that there is a party tonight. Come on! Smitty please!” Bordie whined. Smitty sighed, not really wanting to make the trip. 

“What about Fitz? Will he let us go?” John asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“No...But he goes to bed so early, he won’t even notice we’re gone.” Bordie smiled. John glanced at Smitty. “Please! It’ll be worth it! I promise!” 

“Okay.” Smitty sighed. 

“Yay!” Bordie squealed and hurried from the room to get ready. As soon as Fitz was in bed, the three of them hurried down to the carriage that had been quietly made ready for them, the footman giving them a curious look as they climbed in. 

It was nearing midnight by the time they arrived but the party, which was held at a young Lady’s grand house, was still in full swing. A few partygoers did a double take when they saw Smitty, not sure if who they were seeing was really the prince or not. Soldiers stood around the ballroom, their green uniforms glowing in the warm light. Women in their glittering evening gowns and gloves gathered around them, enchanted by the idea of the brave soldier. Many danced, the orchestra playing a fun, loud tune. 

“I want to dance!” Bordie cried, grabbing for Smitty’s hand. He laughed as she pulled him onto the dance floor, joining the one step dance. John found the gambling table. He took a glass of champagne from a waiter's tray and sat down at the table, a smile on his face. 

The night began to pass in a blur as Smitty spun Bordie around till she was dizzy. John won and won again, a crowd forming around him at the table. When he had had enough, he found Smitty, drunkenly waltzing him across the floor. Smitty laughed, his dark blue coat flaring out around him as John spun him across the floor. 

As the sun began to rise into the sky, they drunkenly made their way back to the carriage, giggling the whole way, their voices echoing off the narrow streets. John and Bordie fell asleep on the way home, but Smitty stayed awake, his eyes on the morning, the misty world around them. 

It was mid-morning by the time the carriage reached the chateau. From his office window, Fitz watched with an unamused expression on his face as the three stumbled out of the carriage and towards the castle. 

One week turned into two which turned into a month. 

The three lounged in the gardens, went to parties in the small city, ran through the halls, screaming with laughter. With every late night carriage ride, every screech, every sweet, Fitz got more and more annoyed. He would slam his office door, not be heard from until dinner. 

“I don’t think Fitz likes us very much,” Bordie said one day as she walked with Smitty to the archery targets. 

“Don’t say that.” Smitty smiled reassuringly at her. “He’s just always like that apparently. That’s what John said.” 

“I think he used to live alone before we came here. Could you imagine that? Living alone in this massive, cold castle?” Bordie looked back at the stone walls and shivered despite the warm sunlight. 

“No...I couldn’t.” Smitty set the quiver down, thinking about the drawings he had seen on Fitz’s desk. He loaded an arrow into the bow as Bordie sat down at the table where a fruit bowl had placed. She picked up an apple, it’s red skin glinting in the light. Smitty let go of the string, the arrow flying through the air. It just missed the centre of the target. 

“I have an idea!” Brodie jumped up, the apple held tight in her hand. Before Smitty could react, she ran in front of the target, placing the apple on top of her head. “Shoot it off!” 

“Bordie...I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“Oh come on! Are you scared?” Bordie teased. “You have a great shot!” 

“I really don’t.” Smitty laughed. “Get away from there.” 

“Do it, Smitty!” Boride smiled. “I’m not moving!” She crossed her arms. Smitty hesitated. “Scaredy cat! Scaredy cat!” She laughed. Smitty grit his teeth. He pulled an arrow from the quiver, loading it into the bow before abruptly aiming it at the apple. He stared at it, his grip on the string tight. 

“What the hell are you doing? Smitty stop this right now!” Fitz’s voice echoed across the garden. Smitty lowered the bow as he turned, his eyes wide. Bordie pulled the apple off her head. “You could have killed her! Shot her eye out! Whose idea was this?” Fitz demanded. Bordie pointed at Smitty who stared at her, betrayed. “I’ve had enough! We are in the midst of a brutal war and your father, the king, is on his deathbed! And where are you? Goofing off! Partying till the morning! Endangering the people around you!” Fitz yelled. Smitty flinched away from him, tears welling up in his eyes. “You are foolish! Reckless! Stupid! God forbid you become king while we’re still at war! We’re all doomed if you do! You are not a good heir and this rate, you will never be a good king! Tell me one thing about this war going on!” Fitz demanded. Smitty struggled to find the words. Bordie stifled a giggle. 

“T-There are...A-A...Aeroplanes…” Smitty spluttered. “And...g-gas…and t-trenches…” 

“What about them?” 

“I-I...They are...new forms of warfare?” 

“How many of our men have been killed by these new forms of warfare?” Fitz demanded. Smitty lowered his gaze. “Smarten up! And fast! Or you are going to kill us all!” Fitz yelled before turning on his heel and marched towards the gate. 

“Jesus.” Bordie laughed. Tears spilt down Smitty’s cheeks. “Come on, Smitty. Let’s-“ 

“No! I’m done!” Smitty yelled. He threw his bow and arrow down. He broke into a run. He wasn’t sure where he was running to, he just had to get away from here. 

“Smitty!” Bordie called after him. “Smitty!” He ignored her. He kept running, his black coat rippling around him in the wind. He let out a sob, tears streaming down his face. The world darkened as he ran into the woods, the leaves overhead swaying in the wind. He stopped to breathe, sobs rattling his chest. 

Fitz was right. 

_ I am a foolish prince.  _

He fell to his knees, his hands gripping the dirt. Tears fell from his cheeks to the wet earth. Slowly, he raised his head. In front of him was the entrance to the hedge maze. Smitty looked back, seeing the castle and it’s tall, dark windows. He pushed himself to his feet, slowly stepping towards the maze. The hedges were a bit unkempt, their branches sticking out in all directions. He ducked under them, walking deeper and deeper into the maze. 

He turned the corner. 

He stopped. 

At the end of the maze was a grand, wood door. Carved elegantly into the wood was an owl, it’s golden wings spreading. The gold handle glinted in the light. Smitty wondered if he should go back but curiosity got the better of him. He continued forward, reaching for the handle. His fingers curled around it. Slowly, he turned the handle. The door clicked. A rush of warm air came through the crack in the door frame. His brow furrowed. 

He threw the door open.

His eyes widened. 

A towering forest rose towards a bright blue sky. Birds sang. A sparkling river flowed past. Even the air seemed to sparkle. Smitty looked back, seeing the dark maze and the grey roof of the chateau. He turned back to the beautiful, bright woods on the other side of the door. Slowly, he stepped through the door frame. The door creaked closed behind him. Smitty rubbed his teary eyes with his sleeves. The lush green grass was soft, small white flowers growing from the earth. Brightly coloured butterflies and birds flew through the air. He had never seen anything them like them, not even in books. Smitty continued through the sparkling woods. He reached his hand up, a beautiful blue butterfly landing on the tips of his fingers for just a moment before it fluttered off. Smitty watched it go. He smiled, his big eyes taking in the strange, beautiful woods. Sunlight shimmered through the tall trees. 

The sound of rushing water caught his attention. He walked towards the river, following it a little way through the woods until it came to a rushing waterfall, the water a perfect crystal blue. He could see right through the clear water to the bottom where stones and even a few gemstones rested. He knelt down at the riverbed, reaching for a small amber coloured gem. He smiled, tucking it into his pocket to show John later. He got up and climbed down to the bottom of the waterfall, tempted to jump into the crystal pool at the bottom.

It was then that he heard music. He knew the song. He had heard it playing from John’s phonograph. The soft, serenading voice echoed through the trees. Smitty followed the music, seeing a clearing through the trees. He pushed aside the branches of a bush and stepped into the clearing, the music louder now. 

In the middle of the clearing, underneath the largest weeping willow tree that Smitty had ever seen, was a beautiful red tent, the embroidered canvas held up by goldenrods hammered into the earth. Spilling out of the tents were paintings that Smitty had only seen at the Louvre, Monet, Van Gogh, Da Vinci, Goya. Others were portraits of royals, most of them were Smitty’s ancestors. There were books and maps, statues and plates of food, sweet and savoury, the delicious smells carried on the air towards Smitty. Music came from the phonograph that played beside the painting of the Mona Lisa. 

Among all of this art and history, was a faun. His goat legs were curled around him, soft white cuffs trimmed with gold thread wrapping around his ankles. A long blue and gold cloak hung over his bare shoulders. Atop his head grew large ram horns that curled around the sides of his head. Between the horns rested a golden crown that looked like it had been made with tree branches. The faun was reading a book,  _ The Canterbury Tales _ by Chaucer. The faun looked up from his book. He smiled when he saw Smitty. 

“Ah! Your Highness!” The faun bowed his head to Smitty, his golden crown glinting in the warm sunlight. “My name is Brock. Please. Come join me! I’ve been expecting you!” 


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the wait and if this chapter is a little bit short. I hope to have the soundtrack for this fic up soon! Thank you for the support <3

“Tea?” 

“O-Oh...Yes, please.” The faun smiled, pouring tea from the porcelain white pot into the matching teacup held in the prince’s hands. Steam coiled and twirled into the air. Smitty stared down at the tea. A jasmine flower floated at the top, it’s petals in full bloom. He took a sip, the gentle taste setting him at ease. 

“I’ve been studying your world. You humans are very strange.” Brock said, setting the teapot down. “Vulgar, and violent...But sometimes beautiful as well.” His eyes were on the paintings. “Tragic and stunning.” The crown between his horns glinted in the warm sunlight. He turned his gaze back to Smitty whose brow was knitted with confusion. 

“W-Where am I?" 

“Aestas, the land of Summer.” Brock smiled. Smitty stared at him. Questions bubbled in his chest. He glanced around at the forest that surrounded them, listening to birds sing and the strange animal calls that echoed among the trees. This place was like nowhere he'd ever seen or heard of. 

“Are you the King of A-Aestas?” Smitty stumbled over the word as he looked back at the faun and the crown nestled between his large, curled horns. 

“No, no." Brock smiled. "Outside of these woods, I am just a faun. Some here, however, call me king. Others don’t. They recognize other kings.” 

“Other kings? In one kingdom? I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Brock said softly. He took a sip of his tea. “It can be quite confusing. All you need to know is that there are many kings and queens in Aestas but everyone acknowledges the King of Aestas. How would you humans say it….He’s the top of the food chain.” 

“Oh…” Smitty looked down at his tea. The dark tea swirled and sparkled in his small teacup. He parted his lips but there were too many questions on the tip of his tongue. 

_ What is this place?  _

_ Who is the King of Aestas?  _

_ Why is there a door to this place in Fitz’s garden?  _

_ Does Fitz know about this place? _

“How did I get here?” Smitty finally asked. 

“You walked through the door, didn’t you?” Brock asked. 

“I did.” 

“Then you came here through the door.” Brock smiled. “You’re here because I have a very important question to ask you, your Highness.” 

“Me?” 

“Yes. Here in Aestas, we have the story of the Feathered Prince. Most think it's simply a fairytale. Others think its real. The tale goes like this once. Once upon a time, there was a young prince and a young lord. They grew up together and were inseparable.” Smitty looked down at his teacup, seeing figures move among the tea leaves. Images of two young boys floated across the amber surface. One of them had feathers in his hair. The other had a large ring pierced through his septum. “However, as they grew older and the time for the young prince’s reign as king came closer, the young lord became jealous. As to why there are many rumours. Some say that someone came between them. Others say that the lord was always jealous. Whatever caused it, everyone agrees that he listened to the dark magic that creeps through Aestas.” Dark shadows replaced the two boys. “One night, the young prince went missing without a trace save for a few feathers.” 

“Feathers?” Smitty’s brow furrowed, as he remembered the drawing on Fitz’s desk.

“Yes. You see, what makes the family tree the prince comes from so special is that all of them were born with wings. Feathers grow from their arms and in their hair. They are the great birds of Aestas.” Brock smiled. 

“Oh...right. Of course.” Smitty blinked, still struggling to process all of this. 

“Think of it this way. You come from a long line of kings who all happened to take the name ‘Louie’. Will you take that name when you become king?” 

“I haven’t thought about that...Maybe not. I think my father is the 18th Louie...I don’t want to be a numbered king in a textbook.” Smitty sighed. He turned his gaze, his eyes landing on a painting of his great-grandfather. “I don’t want to be like them.” 

“I think that’s a good thing.” Brock smiled. “Anyways...Without an heir to its throne, Aestas was sent into a panic. Then the young lord stepped forward and declared himself king, the first of his name. Aestas and her people had no choice but to accept him. They crowned him king but it wasn’t long afterwards that rumours began to fly about the king and the sorceress that shadows him everywhere he goes. Most believe that the lord locked the prince in a far away tower and then broke apart the key. He gave those pieces to the sorceress who enchanted them and scattered them across Aestas. The story goes that if one finds all three pieces and puts the key back together again, they can save the prince and return him to his throne.” Brock explained. He took a sip of his tea. Smitty stared down at his own teacup where the image of a beautiful key was reflected on the surface. 

“What does this have to do with me? I’m not even from this world...from A-A...Aestas.” Smitty pointed out.

“Do you think you can find the three pieces and save the prince?” Brock asked. 

Smitty hesitated. 

“I-I do-” 

“No. You’re not ready.” Brock sighed. Smitty frowned. 

“You didn’t let me answer.”

“You hesitated.” 

“I don’t know the first thing about this place! I don’t know who this ‘feathered’ prince is! I don’t know what kind of a threat the King is! I’m not a knight. You expect me to go on some quest in some land I know nothing about?” Smitty cried, setting his teacup down. 

“Perhaps you are here at the wrong time, Smitty,” Brock said quietly. 

“The wrong time?” Smitty’s eyes widened. “What does that mean?”

“You should go home.” 

“Pardon?” 

“Finding the key and freeing the prince will not be easy. It requires strength of all kinds. You must be ready to fight, to lose and to win. The King and his sorceress are merciless. The other kings and queens you may encounter in Aestas are unpredictable. However, Aestas cannot go on like this anymore. We need our prince back.” Brock reached for Smitty’s hand. Smitty pulled away from him. “But we need someone we can count on to do it…” 

_ Fool _ , Fitz’s voice rang in his head. 

“I understand…” Smitty’s bottom lip wobbled. 

“Smitty…” 

“I’m not even a good prince here…” Smitty whispered. Slowly, he got to his feet. “Thank you for the tea...Y-Your Majesty.” He bowed to the woodland king before slowly turning away him. Tears welled up in his eyes and spilt down his cheeks. He slowly retraced his footsteps, the summer sky slowly beginning to darken above him. A bright moon rose into the sky. Birds sang in the tall trees. Among the trees, orbs of light sparkled and flew across the forest floor. 

_ Fairies.  _

A glow through the trees caught Smitty’s eye. Through the trees, he could see the door. He hurried towards it, reaching for the handle. He threw it open to find the hedge maze on the other side. He closed the door behind him, leaning against it as he began to sob. 

_ No one wanted him.  _

_ No one believed in him.  _

He hurried through the maze and burst back into the woods. The large chateau loomed before him, the afternoon sunlight washing over its stone walls. He hurried across the lawn and through the gardens, past the archery target and the table nearby where the red apple rested. He hurried inside and up the stairs to the bedroom he shared with John who was sitting on his bed reading. He hadn't even noticed Smitty's absence. Smitty ran towards him, throwing his arms around the young lord. He sobbed against his shoulder. 

“Smitty?” John said softly, setting his book down and wrapping his arms around the young prince. “Are you okay?” The door suddenly swung open. 

“John! Fitz just lost it on Smit-” Bordie started to say then stopped when she saw Smitty was already there, crying against John’s chest. John waved his hand, telling her to leave them. She nodded, stepping out of the room and closing the door.

“Smitty...Hey, it’s okay. Whatever Fitz said, just forget about it. He’s just….He’s just like that. He's been like that since he was our age. Don't take it personally, Smit..."  John said quietly. Smitty shook his head. 

“I’m not a good prince, John…Not here...not in Aestas…” 

“Aestas?” John’s brow furrowed. Smitty looked up at him, wondering if he should tell John about the strange world he found through the hedge maze. The amber stone in his pocket felt heavy. 

He doubted that John would ever believe him. He’d tell Smitty that only kids play make-believe games. They were eighteen-year-old boys, not children. 

Maybe Aestas and the faun was just a daydream. 

Smitty sighed, leaning his head against John’s chest. 

“Can you read to me?” Smitty asked, pointing at John’s book. 

“Sure…” John smiled, pressing a kiss against Smitty’s forehead. He reached for the book, opening it to the beginning. He began to read, the afternoon slowly passing, the summer sky beginning to darken. 

In his office, Fitz sat at his desk, his eyes on the drawing in front of him. The pen in his hand trembled. 

Bordie wandered through the stone halls, her white lacey afternoon dress skimming the floor. A stone of regret had found its home in her chest. 

On the horizon, smoke columns began to rise into the sky. 

War was coming and following close behind him was death on her pale horse. 


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the support TFP has gotten so far!!! I'm so excited for what is coming next and all the amazing characters I'm going to introduce you to!! I hope you enjoy the chapter!!

Candles flickered. Cutlery scrapped against plates. Napkins were held tightly in white-knuckled hands. There was an undeniable tension in the chateau’s dining room. It hovered over each servant that entered and weighed down on the four people that sat around the table. Bordie and John looked nervously between Fitz and Smitty who sat at opposite ends of the table. John awkwardly cleared his throat.

“I’ve been doing some reading about the war,” John said. “I hear that some of our allied countries, their young royals are joining the soldiers on the battlefield.”

“Perhaps ours should follow suit,” Fitz said sharply, taking a sip from his wine. Smitty stared at him. “It’d raise morale. A good prince would do whatever it takes to help his people.” Fitz’s eyes were on the white tablecloth. There was something distant about his gaze as if he were in another world.

Smitty’s grip on his fork tightened. He thought of Aestas and the feathered prince. The memory of the drawing on Fitz's desk flashed through Smitty's mind; a boy with feathers in his hair. Realization dawned on Smitty.

Slowly, he raised his dark gaze to look at the lord that sat across the table from him.

“Tell me, Fitz...Does a good prince have feathers?” The words were out of Smitty’s mouth before he could stop them. They were vicious, cruel, knowing words.

Fitz’s head snapped up.

John and Bordie stared at Smitty, confused.

Fitz's eyes narrowed at Smitty. The distant reminiscing was gone from his face and all that was left was a look of hurt, anger and realization. “What else makes a good prince, Fitz?” Smitty demanded. Fitz glanced at John and Bordie. He took a deep breath.

“A good prince...is kind and loyal. He’s loving and graceful. He’s brave. He’s selfless. He does what he is told.” Fitz said, his eyes lowering to the table. “And you are none of those things.” Fitz snapped. “You didn’t even listen to me.”

“What are you hiding, Fitz?” Smitty hissed. John’s eyes widened. “What happened?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.” Fitz snarled. “You are a guest in my house. Don’t you dare talk to me like I am below you!” Fitz yelled. Bordie looked down at the table, wincing at the sound of anger in Fitz’s voice. “You don’t know my reasons! You don't know what I've seen. You don't know! You don’t even know what is going on in your own kingdom! I don't have to tell you anything.”

“Shut up!” Smitty yelled. Fitz stared at him, a slight tremor in his hands. “Do you have any idea who you are talking to?”

“A spoiled brat.” Fitz snarled. “A foolish prince. That’s all you are.” He leaned back in his chair _._

_He’ll never be anything like the feathered prince._

Fitz caught himself.

_No...Feathered king now...right?_

“Go to hell!” Smitty suddenly threw his cloth napkin down onto the table, forcing Fitz back into the present. Smitty's wine glass tipped over. Red wine stained the white tablecloth and dripped to the floor as Smitty stood up and stormed out of the dining room.

“Smit-“ John started to get up but stopped when Fitz placed his hand on his.

“Let him go,” Fitz said softly. “He won’t be reasonable when he’s this upset. No one is.” Reluctantly, John sat back down. He glanced at Bordie who was looking curiously at Fitz, wondering what it was that Smitty had taunted Fitz with.

_What happened?_

Smitty burst into the long second-floor hallway, tears streaming down his face.

_Perhaps you are here at the wrong time…_

Smitty came to a stop in the middle of the hall, pressing his hands against his face as a sob rattled his shoulders.

Hanging on the stone wall behind him was a large, old painting of his great, great, great grandfather, the royal crown resting atop his head, the same royal crown that Smitty would one day wear. The old king’s oil painted eyes stared down at the prince.

Smitty took a deep, heaving breath before continuing down the hall. He headed up the stairs to the third floor and into his room, closing the door behind him. He took off his black blazer and kicked off his shoes. He pulled his bow tie, throwing it to the floor before unbuttoning his vest. He unbuttoned a few of the top buttons of his crisp, white collared shirt before laying down on his bed, his eyes on the window. He could faintly see the woods and the hedge maze.

Smitty closed his eyes.

A golden light flickered and moved among the trees.

 

Later that night, John finally came upstairs and found Smitty. He had taken off his coat, vest and shoes before lying down beside Smitty, pulling him into a warm hug. The boys fell asleep with their arms around each other.

On the horizon was a dark orange glow, smoke billowing into the night sky.

The young prince shifted in his sleep, his neck aching from laying at an awkward angle against John’s shoulder. Beside him, John quietly snored, a line of drool trailing down his chin to the pillow. Smitty’s eyes flickered open. He glanced at the window, letting out a quiet yawn. He sat up, reaching for his red robe that hung on his bedpost. He got up as he pulled it on, walking over to the window, his eyes on the orange glow.

He could hear a faint rumbling sound.

Something in the sky caught his eye.

His gaze turned upwards.

“Aeroplanes and their pilots are terrifying on the battlefield.” One soldier at a party Bordie had dragged them to had said, his eyes wide. “Whenever we saw them...we knew rain was coming.”

A painful whistle filled the air.

Smitty watched in horror as a shell fell through the air and struck the ground beyond the garden. Fire and smoke burst in the air with a great booming sound. Smitty stumbled away from the window as John sat up, his eyes wide with terror.

“What was that?” John cried. Smitty started to turn away from the window as another piercing whistle filled the air. The chateau rumbled as another bomb struck the grounds. John leapt from the bed and grabbed his robe that laid on the bed and pulled it on, the silky lavender fabric dotted with lacey flowers glinting in the dim, fiery light. “It's an antique!” He had said when he got it. “From 1830!” Smitty had laughed. Now, Smitty said nothing as he ran across the room towards the door. He turned back, seeing John dig through his trunk of clothing.

“John!” Smitty yelled. “We have to go! Now!” Another bomb rattled the chateau. John pulled the decorative sheath from his trunk, his iron sword given to him by his father before he died inside. “You don’t need that!”

"You never know,” John said, grabbing Smitty’s arm with his free hand and pulled him into the hallway. Another piercing whistle could be heard. Dust fell from the old ceilings. A deafening boom echoed through the chateau. Glass shattered. They heard Bordie scream. Smitty ran for her door, throwing it open. He ran to where she had fallen among the shattered glass from her window. He grabbed her hand, pulling her up. Small pieces of glass cut their bare feet. They hurried into the hall, following John down the flight of stairs to the second floor that was a flurry of servants and soldiers running too and fro, all desperate to get out of the chateau.

“John! Smitty!” Fitz yelled, pushing through the mob of his own servants and soldiers. “Bordie!” His eyes were wide with fear. There was a sickening crashing sound. Fitz reached for them, shoving them back into the stairwell. The taller man wrapped his arms around them as the roof suddenly caved in. Dust and screams filled the air. Bordie screamed, clinging to Fitz. Smitty even found his hands curling around Fitz’s arm, his eyes closed tightly. John’s hands gripped onto Fitz’s other arm, his head pressed against his shoulder.

As the dust began to clear, Fitz slowly raised his head, looking back down the hallway.

“F-Fitz…” Bordie stammered.

“Get out of here.” Fitz managed to say. He met Smitty’s gaze. “The maze. Go there.” Smitty stared up at him, wide-eyed. “This is just the start of the attack. You have to get away from here. Go to the prince. He’ll take care of you.” Fitz said. Smitty parted his lips.

Do you mean the same prince that was locked away?

Smitty couldn’t bring himself to ask Fitz that question. Instead, he nodded. He grabbed John’s arm and lead the way down the stairs. Bordie refused to let go of Fitz. “It’s okay.” He said softly to her. “Go.” He pulled her hands off him and turned her in the direction Smitty and John had gone. Another whistle pierced through the air. Fitz slowly turned back to the crumbling hall.

Smitty and John burst through the doors, sprinting in the courtyard. Bordie ran after them, her nightgown and robe fluttering in the summer night air around her. She suddenly stopped, turning to look back at the chateau. White spotlights from the aeroplanes flashed over them as another shell dropped towards the chateau.

“Fitz!” She screamed. John stopped, glancing at Smitty. She broke into a run back towards the chateau.

“Bordie!” John yelled. “Bordie!”

“We can’t leave him!” Bordie yelled back.

“John!” Smitty reached for John as the shell struck the chateau. The force sent the three of them falling to the ground. Smitty’s ears rang painfully. Smoke and ash billowed into the sky. Smitty managed to roll onto his side, gravel digging into the palms of his hands. Through the smoke, they could see a group of people stumbling out of the chateau. Bordie scrambled to her feet, running towards them.

“Fitz!”

“John...Come on...We got to go…” Smitty gasped, reaching for John who lay dazed beside him on the gravel. The two struggled to their feet, continuing towards the gardens.

“W-Where are we going?” John called out as they ran towards the woods. Smitty said nothing, his hand held tight onto John’s wrist. In John’s other hand was his sword. He couldn’t stop until they were on the other side of that door.

He knew what happened to royals who were captured by their enemies.

They reached the maze. Smitty knew exactly when to turn, getting closer and closer to the door.

They turned a corner, reaching the centre of the maze. John stumbled to a stop. “S-Smitty...What is that?” John’s eyes were on the large, grand door. Smitty looked back at John, reaching for his hand.

“Trust me,” Smitty said. John took a deep breath and gripped Smitty’s hand.

The young prince opened the door.

A warm glow washed over them as they stepped through the doorway.

As smoke billowed into the sky, the door to Aestas closed.


	6. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The soundtrack for The Feathered Prince is up!! You can find it here on spotify: open.spotify.com/user/aqueeenofokay/playlist/0xPzWEGK2qcWEwUELfEaGO
> 
> You can find the annotated list here: ghosstkid.tumblr.com/post/177326656619/ghosstkid-here-is-the-soundtrack-for-the  
> I hope the new chapter and the soundtrack!!!

Sharp, silver fingernails tapped against a large circular wooden table. Sprawled across the table was a beautiful, gold bordered map of the kingdom. Tiny figures made of ink moved across the map. The inky ocean waves tossed around ships. A great sea snake slithered among the waves. Black inky snow fell on the mountains. The capital, safe on its island, glowed. 

Looking over it all was a tall woman, her sharp gaze locked onto the map. 

Long, silvery blonde hair bound in a braid slithered over the woman’s shoulder, the silky ends grazing the large map. Her bright eyes were lined with black. The blue gems sewn onto her gown glimmered in the dim, fiery light that came from the flickering torches on the stone wall. 

Atop her head was a circlet of black obsidian crystals. 

Her sharp gaze came to rest on a small forest in the east. Among the black, inky trees, she could see two small figures making their way through the woods. 

_ Of course, the door would be there... _

Her sharp nails tapped on the map. 

_ Of course, Brock would be so bold… _

She found herself wondering if by some strange chance it was the tall blonde boy who had stumbled into Aestas years ago; his eyes wide, his heart beating fast. 

_ He almost ruined everything.  _

The tips of her nails dug into the brown parchment paper. 

She doubted that he’d ever come back. 

These two figures were someone else. Despite their unknown identity, she knew exactly why they were here. 

“Luke!” She called out sharply. The door on the far side of the room opened. A tall man dressed in black chainmail and armour stepped into the room, his black cloak grazing the stone floor. On his metal chest was the king's crest. Held at his side was his helmet, the dark metal glinting in the dim light. 

“Yes, ma’am?” 

“Aestas has two visitors. Find them.” She pointed to the forest on the map. “And bring them to me.” The general nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him. Slowly, she lowered her gaze back down to the map. She walked her fingers from the island to the capital. If Luke failed, she knew it wouldn’t be long before they were knocking on the castle’s door. Her gaze turned to the north side of the map, to the mountains.

_ Or worse… _

She took a deep breath. 

Like the last unfortunate boy who had made the mistake of waltzing into Aestas, she would deal with them. 

Reassured, she turned away from the map, walking to the small door behind her, her blue gown flowing around her as she walked. She opened the door and stepped into the quiet sitting room. Its walls were bare save for a large mirror on the far wall. The chairs were draped with warm furs. The fire roared. 

Sitting with his back to her, wrapped in one of his many fur cloaks, the king kept his eyes on his book. She could see his reflection in the large mirror. She could see the look of worry on his face despite how hard he tried to hide it. 

The king could feel her sharp gaze on him. 

He only looked up when her arms snaked around his neck and she placed a kiss on his forehead. 

“Is everything alright?” He asked, the golden ring pierced through his septum glinting in the warm light. 

“Don’t worry...Everything is fine, your majesty…” 

 

Warm sunlight flickered through the leaves. A warm breeze shook the branches of the tall, towering trees. A choir of bird calls echoed through the warm summer air. Orbs of sparkling light danced through the trees. In the distance was the sound of running water cascading down a waterfall. In its riverbed, gemstones glinting the sparkling light. Tall grass grew up around the trees, hiding small creatures who made their homes among the roots of the trees. 

The young prince walked among the tall grasses, his hand grazing over the grass. The grass pulled at his long red dressing gown, his bare feet dirty with ash and dirt. Behind him, the young lord of Aquitaine followed, his eyes wide as he took in the strange, glowing forest he had been pulled into. The rings on his fingers sparkled in the warm light. A butterfly landed on his frizzy white hair and stayed there for a moment before flying off again. 

“S-Smitty…” John called out. The prince turned to look back at him. “Where are we? What is this place?” 

Smitty smiled. “Welcome to Aestas.” Was all he said. John stared after him, still as confused as he was before. He looked up at the trees, faintly able to see a bright blue sky through the large leaves. He looked back at Smitty, seeing that he was farther ahead now. John hurried after him, his purple robe fluttering after him. 

“You’ve been here before?” John asked as he caught up to Smitty. 

“Yeah. Just once.” Smitty shrugged. John blinked. 

“Was it the other day? When you got into that first fight with Fitz?” John glanced at Smitty who nodded. John wrapped his arm around Smitty’s shoulders, pulling him into an awkward one-armed hug as they walked. Smitty smiled, pulling away from the hug. 

“You don’t seem too alarmed.” Smitty pointed out. It was John’s turn to shrug. 

“I guess I’m just a little bit confused as to the how and the why...But it doesn’t feel...alarming here.” John said, looking around the woods. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just...like it...That’s all.” John said as they reached the sparkling river. Smitty’s eyes glanced down at the waterfall to the woods below. “Fitz told you to come here...Why? Does he know about this place?” John couldn’t help but ask, not noticing the music floating through the air. Smitty’s eyes widened. He didn’t answer John’s question.

He hurried down the steep rocky side of the waterfall, giving John no choice but to follow. Smitty ran through the trees, John stumbling after him. “Smitty!” He called out. Smitty broke through the trees into the meadow where the music was louder. John staggered to a stop, his eyes widening. 

Sitting among stacks of books and treys of sweets, was Brock, the king of the woods. The faun looked up at them and smiled. 

“You’re back! And you’ve brought a friend.” Brock said as Smitty approached him. Brock looked up at John and smiled. “My name is Brock. And you?” 

“John.” The blonde boy said, glancing at Smitty as he sat down across from Brock on a soft, embroidered pillow. He set his sword down beside him, the golden handle glinting the sunlight. 

“Yes, of course, my Lord. It’s lovely to meet you.” Brock said as John sat down beside Smitty, wondering how he knew that he was a lord. Brock slid one of the treys of macaroons towards John and Smitty. “You must be hungry. Something happened to you.” John and Smitty nodded. Seeing the shock and fear in their eyes as they remembered what had happened, Brock didn’t ask any more questions about it. John took one of the pink coloured macaroons, taking a bite. It was the sweetest thing he had ever eaten. His eyes widened with delight. “John, did Smitty tell you about this place?” Brock asked. Smitty looked down, a feeling of guilt coming over him. John shook his head. 

“Why didn’t you?” John asked. 

“I-I...I thought you wouldn’t believe me.” Smitty sighed. 

“Fair...I probably wouldn’t have believed you.” John laughed. “But I believe it now.” John smiled. Smitty looked up at him, a smiling pulling at his lips. John glanced back at Brock, noticing the crown between his large horns. “W-What is this place? Smitty said it’s A-Aestas?” 

“Yes. The land of summer.” Brock smiled. His smile did not last long though. It quickly faded as he met Smitty and John’s curious gaze. “However, Aestas is in trouble. Perhaps, Smitty, you needed John here with you all along.” Brock said. Smitty glanced at John whose brow had furrowed. “Let me explain. In Aestas, there is the story of the Feathered Prince. Like I said to Smitty, some believe it, some don’t. However...it’s very real. Once upon a time, there was a young prince and a young lord. They were inseparable. Yet when they got older, around your age, something happened. The prince was very close to his time to reign as king when the young lord became jealous. No one knows why exactly. Some say that someone came between them. Others say that the young lord was always jealous. No matter what you believe, all agree that he listened to the dark magic that creeps and crawls through Aestas. One day, the prince went missing. Gone. All that was left were a few feathers. Aestas was thrown into a panic. There was no king and no heir to the throne. The young lord stepped forward and declared himself king of Aestas. Aestas and her people had no choice but to accept him. Not long after he was crowned, the rumours and the stories began. The lord stole the throne. And he’s been corrupting Aestas ever since. Some call him the King of Pigs. To them, he’s no king of Aestas. We need our Prince back or Aestas will suffer.” Brock explained. John glanced at Smitty who met his gaze. 

“How do we save him?” John asked. “If he’s alive...” 

“The story goes that the young lord locked the prince in a faraway castle. However, he didn’t do this alone. Everywhere he goes, his sorceress follows. She’s a witch is what she is. The Lord gave her the key and she broke it apart and enchanted it. She scattered the three pieces across Aestas. No one has ever succeeded in finding all three. They die trying.” Brock sighed. Smitty’s chest tightened with fear. “However, I believe you can help us. I believe that you can find all three pieces and bring our prince home. Do you think you can find the three pieces and save the prince?” Brock asked.

Smitty met John’s gaze. 

_ What did they have to go home too if not?  _

“Yes.” The two boys said. Brock smiled. Smitty reached for John’s hand, holding it tightly as he glanced back at Brock. 

“Good. Now, I must warn you. Smitty already knows this but I’ll say it again. Aestas is full of different Kings and Queens. All of them are unpredictable for they rule over their own little parts of Aestas. Be careful. Watch what you say and do. Be careful with who you trust.” Brock warned them. Smitty glanced nervously at John whose grip tightened on Smitty’s hand. Brock reached for a scroll that rested on top of a stack of old books. “This is your map. I have marked some places in which you might want to look.” Brock said, handing it to Smitty. He pulled it open, revealing a large map of the land they had found themselves in. John leaned over Smitty’s shoulder, his eyes on the map. There was the small forest where they had found themselves in, the mountains in the north, and a small island just off the coast that had been labelled ‘capital’ by Brock’s neat handwriting. In the ocean waters, was the ink drawing of a pirate ship and a sea monster, a little bit like those Smitty remembered seeing on maps from the 1700s. “If the King finds out that you are here and what you intend to do, he will stop at nothing to make sure you fail. Do not underestimate him and the sorceress.” Brock warned. Smitty nodded, rolling the map back up. “Now, off you go. No time to waste.” Brock said. Smitty took a macaroon before getting up, the map held tight in his hand. John stuffed two handfuls of the sweets into his robe’s pockets before getting up. 

“Will we see you again?” John asked as he picked up his sword. 

“I think so.” Brock smiled. John nodded, turning to Smitty. 

“Which way, captain?” John called out. Smitty laughed, leading the way back into the woods. 

Brock watched them disappear into the woods, hoping that he hadn’t made a mistake. 

 

“I spy with my little eye….something that is green.” John’s sword sliced through the tall grass. The scabbard was held tight in his left hand, his right hand holding the sword which he used to whack through the grass. Smitty followed along behind him, his eyes scanning the green forest around them. 

“Is it...the leaves?” Smitty asked. 

“Yes.” 

“My turn. I spy with my little eye….something that is…” Smitty stared around the woods. There wasn’t much that they hadn’t already said. “Something that is…”

“Maybe we should play something else,” John said, putting his sword back into the scabbard. 

“Like what?” Smitty asked, picking up his pace so he could now safely walk beside John. 

“How about some riddles?” John asked. 

“I hate those.” Smitty sighed. 

“Because they remind you of how stupid you are?” 

“Shut up!” Smitty cried, running ahead of John. His barefoot kicked against something, nearly sending him falling to the ground. He regained his balance, looking around for what he had tripped over. 

Through the grass, he could see mushrooms. 

Smitty glanced back up at John. “Do you really think we can do this? Saving the prince and...John are you okay?" John had suddenly stopped, his eyes widening. 

“S-Smitty…” John held his hand out. “Don’t move.” Smitty’s brow furrowed. 

“What? Why?” John pointed at the ground. Smitty’s gaze lowered back down the ground. Looking closer, he realized that there were more mushrooms. 

They grew in a ring around him. 

“They are just mushrooms.” Smitty shrugged. John shook his head. 

“Fairies…” John breathed. Before Smitty could say anything, the mushrooms began to grow rapidly around Smitty. Panicking, the young prince started to run towards John. John drew his sword, striking at the mushrooms. Something gripped Smitty's ankle, sending him sprawling to the ground. “Smitty!” John screamed. Dazed, Smitty managed to roll on his back. The mushrooms continued to grow towards the sky. 

“John!” Smitty called out as he staggered to his feet. 

A hand curled around his ankles and pulled him down once more. 

This time he didn’t hit the ground.

Smitty screamed as he continued to fall into darkness. “John!” 


	7. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Things are starting to get busy for me again as school is starting next week. Updates might get a little bit sparse but I'll still be doing as much writing as I can. In between chapter updates, make sure to check out my tumblr where I'm posting short little pieces about a Cyberpunk AU! You find them here: ghosstkid.tumblr.com/tagged/cyberpunk-au  
> I hope that you enjoy the chapter!!

 

“John!” The young prince fell for what felt like minutes but it could have only been less than a minute. His red robe rippled in the air. His hands gripped for anything in the dark to catch his fall but there was nothing. He suddenly crashed onto a hard, marble floor. Pain shot through his body. He let out a cry of pain, slowly rolling onto his side. He curled into a ball, pain seizing his back. 

Voices giggled in the dark. 

He could hear the sound of pattering footsteps. 

Slippers. 

“Human...He’s human.” A voice whispered. 

“Make him dance.”

“Make him dance.” 

“Make him dance!” Light exploded around Smitty. He winced painfully at the sudden light. “Make him dance!” Smitty opened his eyes. He lay on a black, polished floor. He could see his own reflection looking back up at him from the floor; it was as if the floor were made of glass. He slowly managed to sit up, taking in the large ballroom he had found himself in. Chandeliers of all sizes hung at varying heights, the lowest crystals touching the floor, the highest grazing the tall domed ceiling. Their diamonds sparkled brightly in the warm light. They blinded him. 

“Make him dance!” Hands were suddenly wrapping around Smitty’s arms, pulling him to his feet. 

“Wait...wait.” Silence abruptly fell over the ballroom. Smitty stared down at a pair of golden slippers.

Slowly, he raised his gaze. 

Standing in front of him was a tall man dressed in gold and covered with gems. From his back grew thin translucent wings. They reminded Smitty of the dragonflies that swooped over the many ponds in the gardens at home. His bright eyes were lined with flakes of gold. 

Atop his head was a tall golden crown, it's points sharp and topped with amber gems. 

The fairy king looked Smitty over, his arms crossed over his sparkling chest. “May I have your name?” The fairy king asked. Smitty blinked. He glanced nervously away from the king to the other fairies that stood around him, their insect-like wings fluttering. Beside the king stood a tall young man with translucent wings like a bumblebee, his dark eyes glanced between the king and the young prince. Smitty’s gaze shifted away from the tall fairy, looking around desperately for anyone who might help him. 

His eyes met the dark gaze of a fairy who stood on the other side of the king, his small moth wings twitching. Tassels strung with pearls and made of delicate golden thread hung from the shoulders of his pastel pink coat he wore. On his feet were sparkling gold slippers. The moth-winged fairy’s lips curled into a gentle smile when he met Smitty’s gaze. 

There were flecks of gold in his hair. 

“Your name?” The fairy king demanded, forcing Smitty to look back at him. Smitty found himself unable to say anything. “Fine.” The fairy king nodded to the fairies gathered around Smitty. They giggled, pushing towards the prince. One of them, a tall girl dressed in a shimmering blue and gold flowing dress gripped Smitty’s hands, pulled him into a dizzying waltz. He had no choice but to follow her steps, his red robe swirling around him. Her slippered feet barely touched the floor as she waltzed him around and around the centre of the ballroom at a dizzying pace. Smitty managed to find his balance, his bare feet gliding across the marble floor. 

The chandeliers sparkled in the warm light. 

The waltz got faster. 

Smitty’s chest tightened as the fairy’s dug her sharp nails into him. 

Blood welled under her nails. 

His feet began to stumble across the floor. 

The sound of laughter and frantic music surrounded him. 

He felt ill. 

His head spun. 

He couldn’t breathe. 

His feet felt like they were burning. 

The fairy suddenly lets go of him, sending him spinning across the ballroom. He collapsed to the floor at the slippered feet of the fairy king who stared down at him, his blonde hair glinting in the golden light. “Have you had enough?” He asked. Smitty couldn’t answer him, the air from his lungs snatched from him. 

“Y-Your majesty...Perhaps this is too much.” The moth-winged fairy said gently. The fairy king met his gaze. 

“Toby…” The king gritted his teeth, his tone full of warning. The moth-winged fairy folded his hands behind his back and looked away. Once more, hands were pulling Smitty to his burning feet. They threw him back into the dizzying waltz. 

“P-Please…” Smitty gasped. “I-I can’t dance anymore!” His cries were ignored. His feet blistered. Sweat dripped down his neck. His chest rose and fell violently, desperate for a gasp of air. His stomach rolled with every spin. His legs began to give out from under him. “P-Plea-” 

Screams suddenly erupted from the far side of the ballroom. 

The fairy suddenly let go of Smitty. The gasping prince crumpled to the ballroom floor as the fairies screamed, running towards the tall doors at the end of the hall. 

A soft hand reached for Smitty’s, slowly pulling him to sit up. A silky arm wrapped around his shoulders. 

“Smitty?” The prince opened his eyes to see John kneeling beside him, his iron sword held tight in his right hand. “Are you okay?” John whispered. Smitty nodded. John slowly stood, his eyes locked on the fairy king. “Let him go.” 

“You’re well read.” The king smiled, gesturing to John’s sword. He looked over John, then down at Smitty. “You aren’t from Aestas. What brings you here?” John’s grip tightened on the sword. He glanced down at Smitty. Toby watched John, his wings spread and still, ready to take off at any moment. The fairy king’s dragonfly wings twitched. He took a step towards John who held the sword out in front of him. 

“Stay back,” John warned. 

“You’d dare to speak to a king like that?” The fairy king asked. John’s jaw clenched. “You must know that just any old iron isn’t going to work on me. I’m not just any fairy.” Toby’s eyes narrowed. John glanced nervously down at his sword. Smitty managed to get to his feet, his eyes locked on the king. “I like you though. You got guts.” The king smiled. “I like people who are brave.” He shot a glare over his shoulder at Toby who crossed his arms, his wings fluttering angrily. “Perhaps you’d like to join me for a meal?” John glanced at Smitty. 

Don’t trust him. 

John turned his gaze back to the king. Slowly, he lowered his sword, but his grip remained tight on the hilt. 

The king smiled. 

 

“I have many names and titles...but for now...I am Brian. You may refer to me as ‘your majesty’.” The fairy king smiled as he threw open the tall doors to a grand, golden dining room. A long table full of all kinds of food filled the centre of the room. Brian took his seat at a large golden chair at the end of the table, Toby and the bumble-winged fairy who they had just been introduced to as Daithi, standing on either side of him.

Smitty reached for a sweet, red apple on the table. 

John smacked his hand away. 

“Why don’t you tell me why you are here in Aestas?” Brian asked, leaning back in his chair as he took a sip of his golden wine glass. John turned his gaze to Smitty. 

“We’re going to save the Feathered Prince,” Smitty said as confidently as he could despite the tremble of his hands. Toby and Daithi’s eyes widened. Brian blinked.

The fairy king burst into laughter. 

“You two? Are going to try rescuing the prince?” Brian howled with laughter. “Who told you that fairytale?” He smiled, leaning forward in his chair. Smitty and John glanced at each other nervously. Smitty’s stomach growled. 

“B-Brock...The king of the woods.” John said. “He told us.” 

“Of course it’d be him,” Brian smirked, leaning back in his chair. “You know you could fail...chasing this fairy tale, right?” 

“Brock mentioned something like that.” John breathed. 

“No one has ever found the three pieces that are said to be scattered around Aestas.” Brian’s smile was gone but his eyes were bright with excitement. “The sorceress was very particular with where she hid them. It had to be somewhere protected, somewhere that wouldn't be easy to find, somewhere dangerous.” Brian got up from his chair, walking over to a large side table that stood against the far wall. “Now that I think about it though...You two might actually be able to do it.” Brian smiled. He pulled open one of the drawers and took out a small gold box. He walked back over to the table, sitting down in his large golden chair. 

“Why?” John asked. “You were just laughing at us.” 

“And I might laugh at you again,” Brian said, tapping his fingers against the box. “However...You two happened to fall into the right place at the right time. It's quite lucky.” 

"Lucky? How?" Smitty scoffed. 

There was nothing lucky about what had happened. 

Brian smiled at Smitty. Slowly, he took the lid off the golden box. Smitty’s eyes widened. “I have one of the three pieces.” Brian smiled. Nestled among velvet was a strange, ornate piece of silver metal with a part of the key’s shaft. The rest was missing. “The sorceress knows about fairies. You don’t often get what you want from them. They only get what they want from you.” 

“What do you want from us?” John asked.

“We didn’t mean to bother you.” Smitty’s voice pitched with nerves. 

“You would have bothered me eventually if this wasn’t your first stop,” Brian said sharply. “How about we play a game?” Brian smiled. He turned to Toby and Daithi. “Any ideas?” Toby glanced at John and Smitty, his moth wings fluttering nervously. A look of empathy flashed across his face. 

"How about a game of chess?" Daithi suggested. Brian shook his head. "Or what about..." Daithi trailed off, scratching his chin as he thought, his bumblebee wings twitching. The fairy king turned to the moth-winged fairy. 

“Toby?” Brian asked. Toby hesitated, his gaze locked on John and Smitty. 

“How about a riddle?” He finally said, the gold in his hair glinting in the light as he turned his head to meet the fairy king’s gaze. 

“A riddle?” Brian leaned back in his chair. He smiled. “I like that idea. Alright. I have a riddle for you boys. If you can solve it, you get the piece of the key. If you can’t...I get your names. Sound fair?” 

“No.” John crossed his arms. Brian ignored him as he got up, pacing as he thought of a riddle. He suddenly stopped, turning to look at the two human boys. 

“I have one.” Brian placed his hands down on the table, leaning towards them. “I am become of flesh and blood, as other creatures be; yet there is neither flesh nor blood doth remain in me. I make kings that they fall out, I make them agree; and yet there’s neither flesh nor blood doth remain in me...What am I?” 


End file.
